


And On The Seventh Day They Rested

by GuesssWho



Category: Firefly
Genre: Disturbing Themes, Gen, The Alliance is useless as usual, miranda - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 14:16:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4482416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuesssWho/pseuds/GuesssWho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The children of Miranda remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And On The Seventh Day They Rested

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Reluctant Reaver](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/134613) by Broken N Bleeding. 



The day we realized was the worst day of our lives. The second day was the worst too. The third day no one enjoyed at all, and after that it went into a bit of a decline.

I'm paraphrasing from an old humor book, do forgive me. It's a sad story, even after all these years, and a little humor makes it bearable. The story and the things that were done to keep it from being told for as long as possible.

I was nine, you see, when my family moved to Miranda.

It started when half the planet didn't show up for work. The next day it was three quarters. Then seven eighths. By the end of the week there were seven children left at the school, and we knew we had to get out.

We also knew that something was very wrong with us. My brother kept poking his cheek with a steak knife, an older girl would not shut up about BDSM, one little boy had to focus constantly to bother with breathing, the oldest boy saw no point to food, his little brother had lost an eye somehow and kept fiddling with the socket like it was a cool new toy and the youngest girl kept muttering about skin. I myself had found the teacher, who had decided to sit passively in a corner, and was busily chewing on her arm. I don't know why, but it seemed to make sense at the time and Mrs. Hopkirk didn't seem to mind--or indeed even notice.

We were one of the larger groups to form so quickly, which made getting a shuttle easier despite our ages. A lot of people--the still-moving ones, mostly nascent Reavers--were still in shock or lost entirely to the madness, so we had our pick of ships, and the older girl had taken pilot lessons.

Once we got out in the black, things devolved as much as you'd expect. Some of us had already been friends. The ones that hadn't been became our friends fast, for their own protection.

It wasn't long before the young boy forgot to focus on breathing for too long, which we wanted to feel sad about but no longer knew how to. Within a few hours the older boy was suffering from the same problems, so we killed him too just to save time and then the feds found us.

BDSM girl had actually approached them, in the perfectly reasonable belief that a shuttle full of violently insane children was not something she should loose on the universe. We ate her as soon as we noticed, of course, since we were now violently insane, but since she had been piloting that was eminently unhelpful.

Of course the investigators hadn't expected Reavers, so sheer horrified shock allowed a bunch of furious six- to twelve-year-olds to kill a couple of them before we were sedated and taken away for testing.

The cures, it turned out, were different for each of us. They were also very difficult to make. It would probably take a thousand years to make them for every survivor, we had to be kept close for tests and we killed several guards in the time it took. It was therefore decided that the project would be abandoned. And, with typical Alliance thinking, they tried to euthanize us.

That idea died along with a few less kind guards, we stole a ship and here we are.

So, now that you've heard the story of why our ship is called Riven, wanna hear how I got these scars?


End file.
